Dirt

I grew up with dirt. Under our house at 92 Waverley Road Taringa was dirt. When it rained the dirt turned to mud and the rushing water cut deep furrows in it. In these chasms toy soldiers could hide as they engaged in battles with the enemy and toy cars could disappear completely only to magically reappear in the next summer thunderstorm.

In my younger years football involved dirt and rocks. The entire left side of Oakman Park (kicking uphill) was dirt and rock and one of the consequences of this was that if you were silly enough to be caught by an opposition player on this side of the field you usually lost skin. Saturday nights generally involved getting knees and elbows stung by some strange concoction of liquids Dad had as he repaired my injuries.

As I got older I got to play on better fields that were grassed, footpaths got paved, and there were no dirt edges to roads. One of the side effects of this was that the soles of my feet went from being leather-like and impervious to any pain, to becoming soft. This forced me to wear shoes most places. I entered a phase of life without dirt. It was comfortable and when I encountered dirt I found it irritated me.

My life changed two weeks ago when I landed in India. Before India I thought I knew dirt but India has Mega-Dirt. It is everywhere and in everything especially your footwear. Standing where we now live and seeing 2,000 school children playing in a large dirt quadrangle dotted with trees causes my mind to meander back through life and recall lots of adventures.

Before I arrived in India a very small stone in my shoe used to irritate me greatly – well more that irritate me, it used to immobilise me. I had to stop and take off my shoe and empty it before I could continue.

Here in India if I did that I would get nowhere because every step I take somehow deposits small stones and dirt in my shoes. So to get anywhere I have had to find ways to endure the dirt so that my journey can continue.

It made me think how much Indian dirt reflected my life journey. I used to let small pebbles stop me in my track but now I have discovered that my life can continue with any number of pebbles and it will be OK – but the journey will be different.

PS

It gives me a new perspective on Jesus washing the disciples’ feet.

What is more refreshing than reaching your destination, removing your shoes, and letting Jesus take care of the pebbles.